


Darts of Pleasure

by kenporusty



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Job, Cross gencest, Durincest, Fili being a switch, Hand Job, Hobbit holiday exchange fic, I'm not sorry for the end, M/M, incest - brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenporusty/pseuds/kenporusty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two vignettes in Erebor.</p><p>Thorin and Fili on the Throne of Erebor.</p><p>Fili and Kili "relieve some stress."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darts of Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stubliminalmessaging](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/gifts).



> For stubliminalmessaging. I really hope you enjoy this!

_Themajesticbraidsoffili wanted something with Fili, preferably top!Fili and “bondage is nice.” I gave you two of your requested pairings. I hope you enjoy this, hon._

 

The nights after retaking Erebor were nerve-wracking. Thorin paced the halls, sat uneasily on the throne, sighed heavily and paced again. While the company searched the treasury, Balin and Ori carefully taking stock of every treasure and piece of gold found, counted, sorted, and kept from the sticky fingers of Nori.

The dwarves of the company rarely slept. Bifur took to the repetitive search and sort with a single-minded glee, the dullness of such a task a welcome relief after the months on the road. Bombur found the kitchens, but didn’t trust the barrels of salted meat and jars of pickled vegetables, not after the decades since the dragon chased the original Ereborean dwarves from the mountain. Laketown was effectively ruined; no supply help would come from there. Kíli left frequently for days at a time to hunt what he could, but it was lucky if he found anything more than a deer in the growing cold.

He was told to stop, to help the dwarves of the treasury, and Bombur tested the salted meat himself.

With a lot of rinsing and some careful cooking it was edible, as was the store of grain and rice.

Thorin tried to oversee the work, but the glinting gold wrested something from its slumber deep within his mind. He felt a twinge of possession, of what Elrond described so coldly in Rivendell as “madness,” awaken and he could not trust himself.

He turned the duty of watching the activity to a rotating schedule of Fíli, Kíli, and Dwalin.

Fíli was ordered to see him on the throne when Kíli took over watch. In the throne room, Thorin resumed Fili’s lessons, intermixed with stories of growing up in the haunted and quiet mountain.

Fíli dropped a gold coin from the walkway to the throne and waited to hear it strike the bottom.

It never did.

 

“Fíli, come here,” Thorin spoke, his voice cut with a weariness Fíli hadn’t heard before.

Dutifully, he obeyed and stopped at the steps up to the throne, looking at Thorin and to the hollow that should hold the Arkenstone.

“No, come up. Come to me.” Thorin waved him up as if Fíli were some scared child approaching the Durin’s Day Boon Dwarf, too nervous to ask for his Durin’s Day gift.

Fíli’s footfalls rung off the stone like a hammer on an anvil.

“There are things we have not had time to discuss before now.” Thorin said warmly, patting his thigh.

Fíli stood awkwardly off to the side of Thorin, looking down at him with a confused yet fond look.

“But the others.”

“But nothing, I am their king, and they will look away.”

Fíli stepped between Thorin’s thighs, reaching out with trembling hands to remove the crown from Thorin’s brow. A strong hand caught his wrist.

“No, not this time, leave it,” the hand drew Fíli’s towards his body, and Fíli allowed himself to be guided into the warm embrace of his uncle.

“Usually so eager, my little golden one,” Thorin kissed the crown of Fíli’s head, murmuring into his hair.

Strong hands rubbed gentle fingertips along Fíli’s spine. Fíli arched and mewled with the touch.

“We are so open, so exposed.” Fíli said quietly, pushing aside the hair on Thorin’s neck, planting soft kisses on the exposed flesh there.

“You find it thrilling?”

Fíli could not deny his filling cock. They could be seen by anyone. Everyone could hear any noises they made. Part of his mind rejected this, wanting to take Thorin to his chambers. Not here, not now. Too exposed.

The rest of his mind told that part to be silent.

Thorin turned his head, picking up Fíli’s chin, tilting his head to capture his lips in a kiss. Their lips moved together, tongues warring for dominance. Thorin straightened in the throne, strong hands gripping the flesh of Fíli’s bottom, pulling him closer. Fíli threw his leg over Thorin’s thigh, slotting himself as close as he could. His thigh rubbed against Thorin’s clothed erection.

They broke apart, watery blue eyes meeting ice blue ones.

“Thorin,” Fíli’s throat caught.

“No words, golden prince.”

Thorin worked quickly to divest Fíli of his shirt and unlace his loose trousers. Now settled, just the Company and the Hobbit, Fíli had taken to dressing lighter than he ever had in the Ered Luin. Thorin hungrily, quickly, pushed the prince’s trousers to the floor. Fíli stepped out of the pool of cloth, carelessly kicking it away. His head tilted back and he could not stifle the moan as Thorin palmed his half-hard cock through his smalls.

“Your body language betrays you, Fíli,” Thorin said with a slight chuckle. “My golden treasure, what do you want? Do you want me to take you into my mouth until you are spent down my throat?”

Fíli’s cock twitched in interest. Thorin pulled Fíli closer still, pressing his cheek to his nephew’s.

“Or perhaps you wish to impale yourself on me until your paint you claim to the kingdom across the throne.”

Fíli’s fingers twitched as he began to unlace the simple shirt Thorin wore, pulling back the dark blue fabric to reveal a glint of silver across Thorin’s broad chest.

“You wear mithril in the company of your comrades? Dwarves that are loyal to you to the ends of the earth, Dwarves that followed you across the world to reclaim an ancient home, and yet you do not trust them to not attack you with blade or foul word?” Fíli asked distracted by the glinting metal.

“It is merely a precaution. One can never trust his fellows around so much treasure. The once loyal warrior can turn to the back-stabbing thief under the control of such things as gold.” Thorin tapped his fingers to his forehead, looking both complacent and frightened.

Fíli chewed his lip, resuming the removal of Thorin’s shirt. He draped the soft shirt across the back of the throne. Thorin hissed at the chill stone on his warm skin.

“Stand and I will remove your trousers,” he said simply, palming at Thorin’s erection. Thorin’s eyes slipped close, a throaty moan echoing off the walls of the throne room. Fíli stepped free, allowing Thorin to lift his hips for Fíli, who pulled the clothes free with rather practiced ease. Thorin raised a brow and Fíli colored in his cheeks.

“Kíli?”

Fíli nodded briefly before dropping to his knees before his king. Thorin’s fingers immediately wove into Fíli’s hair, pulling sharply at the braids indicating his status as an heir of Durin. Fíli mewled and nosed his way up Thorin’s spread thighs, looking up through his lashes, marveling at the contrast of the blinding white-silver of mithril and the raven of Thorin’s hair draping over his shoulders.

Handsome beyond reason is what his mind dubbed his uncle. Someday he hoped to be that majestic, that regal upon that throne.

For now, he buried his nose in the thatch of curls at the juncture of Thorin’s legs, inhaling deeply the scent of sweat and musk. Thorin’s erection lay thick and heavy against his belly, begging for attention. Fíli’s hand rolled Thorin’s stones, squeezing gently as he ran his tongue along the thick vein on the underside of his cock.

Thorin’s breath caught in his throat and his fingers twitched.

“Take it in your mouth,” he muttered breathily.

Fíli wrapped his fingers around the base of Thorin’s thick cock, holding it as his mouth parted over the head, engulfing the organ in a wet, warm heat that slid down slowly before agonizingly drawing back just as slowly.

Slower even.

The noise he wrought from Thorin’s throat spurred the growing fire in his own belly. His own arousal twitched and strained against his thin underclothes.

Encouraged he continued, mouth sliding on a trail of saliva, tongue working the underside, hand moving to cover what he could not take into his mouth.

He found a rhythm, closing his eyes and listening to the echoes of Thorin’s moans of pleasure echo off the walls of the room.

It was almost Zen: the heavy sounds of lips and hand on flesh, the moans that started deep but ended higher. Fíli prayed to his uncle in the most intimate ways, and it brought them bother closer to euphoria.

The peace was shattered as fingers roughly pulled Fíli away, tilting his head back. Thorin stroked himself through his climax, coming in pearly streaks across Fíli’s face.

That was new.

Thorin panted, pulling Fíli up to wipe the fluid from his lips, kissing him roughly.

“Such a good heir.”

He offered Fíli his shirt to wipe his face clean.

“A good heir, you looked so peaceful down there.”

Thorin’s hand gripped Fíli’s cock, stroking him through his underclothes. Fíli whined, rubbing himself against Thorin, seeking more friction.

“You’re so hard. Would you like help relieving that tension?” Thorin whispered in Fíli’s ear.

Fíli’s answer was a faint but wanting “please.”

Thorin easily flicked Fíli’s underclothes down; taking Fíli’s leaking cock in his hand.

Despite living a life of hard work and rough travel, Thorin’s hand was soft and smooth, caressing Fíli’s length; the way eased with the pre-come that leaked in anticipation.

Fíli groaned and writhed, falling forward to lean his forehead on Thorin’s shoulder, hand resting on the cool stone of the throne. He chanted Thorin’s name almost reverently, his own words echoing off the cool stone, dissolving to a white noise of pleasure.

Thorin’s free hand cupped the firm globe of Fíli’s ass, thick fingers stroking towards the seam of his backside and thigh. Fíli’s voice caught in his throat. Thorin circled the furled muscle. Fíli whimpered, leaning back on Thorin’s finger.

“Another time, prince.”

The whispered promise was all Fíli’s needed to fall over the precipice of orgasm. With great shuddering breaths he came, Thorin moving him so he painted the grey-green stone of the throne instead of his uncle’s mirthril. Legs no longer willing to function, he collapsed into Thorin’s embrace, Thorin stroking him through his release, placing light kisses on his neck.

"Look, Fíli, you have sealed your right as heir here tonight. See how your promise glistens." Thorin sounded almost reverent as he held Fíli by the hips so the prince could regain his balance.

He couldn't help but keep an eye on the come splattered across the throne as a heavy weight settled about the crown of his head.

 

*****

 

“Brother you seem restless,” Kíli looked at Fíli, his elder brother standing in the doorway, hands gripping the decorative frame. He leaned in the door, feeling the welcome stretch of his muscles.

Kíli lounged on the four-post bed, tracking the movement with his eyes, watching with a strange hunger. Fíli’s shirt hung open, casually, almost relaxed, in complete contrast to the air that permeated the city. Everyone felt the tension and the anxiety, none more than the Princes.

The title came down especially hard on Fíli. The once intangible now staring him in the face, daring him to reach out and touch it.

Every smooth wall, every intricately decorated corner, every inlay of gold reminded him that now he had a throne to look forward to. He had a kingdom, he had a people; they had a home.

“Come here, golden prince of Erebor,” Kíli smiled softly, waving his brother into the room.

Fíli moved heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, head hanging so his braids fells to frame his face. He was dimly aware of Kíli’s movement until he felt his brother’s weight behind him, felt the prickly stubble of his beard against the fabric of his shirt, the warmth of his body leeching into his skin. Fíli’s heart thudded in his chest. He leaned slightly back into his brother’s embrace.

They’d talked about this.

Them.

There was no time before Thorin called them to the Shire. There was no time on the Quest. It looked like there would be no time before Dain arrived and the approaching armies crashed upon the mountain like an angry sea.

There was no time like the present.

Fíli moved before Kíli could think. He was on his back, the light brother straddling his hips, shirt easily removed to reveal that practice, travel, and battle-toned chest. Kíli’s fingers drifted over the peaks and valleys on muscle and sinew. The firm flesh brought by months of hard travel and years of practice with twin swords.

“You’re so beautiful.” Fíli whispered, shivering slightly at his brother’s touch.

“I love you, Kíli. I would follow you to the end of the world.”

Kíli leaned up to meet Fíli halfway as he dipped to kiss him. Their lips met in a wave of rushed passion.

“Don’t talk like that,” Fíli said against Kíli’s lips, pushing him down with a strong hand to his chest.

Fíli worked quickly. Kíli’s hands were above his head, lashed in soft silks, hooked into an open loop on the headboard. Kíli strained against the bonds, and nodded to Fíli. If needed, he could get out easily. Fíli grinned wickedly and Kíli’s vision went dark as his brother tied a dark cloth over his eyes.

The weight on the bed disappeared.

“And you thought you’d be in charge tonight.”

Fingers lightly pulled Kíli’s trousers and underclothes off; a hand stroked his cock soothingly, easing the ache.

The hand withdrew, leaving Kíli on the bed, arms stretched, knees bent, hanging open, waiting for the touches that ghosted across his muscled belly and through the dusting of dark hair on his chest. He arched at the finger than ran down the path of hair from nipples to navel, drawing a line from hip to hip but never moving lower.

Kíli arched and whined. The hand promptly removed itself and a sharp fingernail scratched the pebbled peak of a dusky nipple. Kíli clamped his mouth shut.

He was not to speak. Or make noise.

Fingers tapped at the bonds about his wrists. He nodded affirmation that, yes, they were fine, and no, he was not losing feeling in his hands. He smiled and flexed his fingers.

Hands returned to his body. The finger traced its path down his chest and stomach, hand flattening out on the twitching muscles of his belly. Kíli arched and rolled, an angry sea of kohl and flesh and need.

Fíli resettled on the bed. Kíli heard the distinctive pop of a stopper, his cock twitching and weeping in anticipation.

“Such a good prince,” Fíli cooed, running the flat on his hand down Kíli’s front.

He bent and licked a warm stripe up his prick, from root to tip, suckling the salty pre-come from the head of Kíli’s prick. A warm, slick finger circled Kíli’s entrance, teasing the furl of muscle.

Kíli arched like a bow off the bed, legs falling farther open, pushing back on the finger, begging wordlessly for more.

“Do you want more, brother? Want my finger to stretch you wide?” Fíli stroked Kíli’s tight entrance, fingertip pressing into the tight muscle. His finger slid into the tight, warm heat of his brother’s body. He groaned, bending over to place warm, wet kisses along Kíli’s chest. He took each of Kíli’s nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling at the pert nubs. Kíli made small mewling noises, breathing heavily in through his nose, and out through his mouth.

Kíli bucked, chewing his lip raw, holding back a throaty moan. He took a deep breath, let it out, relaxing, reveling in the stretch and burn.

Fíli added more oil to his fingers, pulling the one out, adding a second, spreading his fingers, stretching Kíli’s hole. Kíli hissed, chewing on his lip, rocking his hips, pressing Fíli’s fingers deeper into him.  
“You’re such a slut for my fingers,” Fíli laughed and added a third finger without warning, reveling in the buck of his brother’s hips.

He ran his free hand across the sheen of sweat coating, pulling at the hair on his chest before sliding his hand across Kíli’s throat, squeezing before moving to pull on the hair splayed across the pillow. He pulled sharply on those silky tresses.

“Do you like that, Kíli? Do you want more? Do you want me to fuck you?”

Fíli crooked his fingers, stroking Kíli’s prostate. Kíli arched, stars exploding behind his eyes.

“Tell me, brother, are you ready? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Please, please fuck me.” Kíli’s voice rasped out. “Fill me, split me wide, make me come.”

“With pleasure,” Fíli grinned and pulled is fingers free, leaving Kíli loose and wanting. He stroked Kíli’s straining erection, reaching for the bottle of oil.

He lazily drizzled the viscous fluid into his palm, stopping the bottle and setting it aside. He stroked the oil over his cock, moved between Kíli’s legs, and slowly, agonizingly pushed into the heat of his brother’s body.

“So tight, Kee,” Fíli whispered, anchoring his hands on Kíli’s hips, keeping himself grounded.

The urge to thrust was wildly overwhelming, Fíli hissed as he seated himself in Kíli’s body.

Fíli doubled over, kissing and nosing at Kíli’s chest, kissing up to his neck.

“Feel so good, Kee, so warm, so tight. Want to fuck you, Kee.”

He dared his hands to release Kíli’s hips, moving to slide the blindfold from Kíli’s eyes, the dark brother blinking in the sudden light, eyes fixing on the blue eyes above him, the light curtains framing their faces. Fíli grinned down at him, stealing a kiss.

“Want to look into your eyes as I fuck you.” He rocked his hips, causing their bodies to move in unison.

He pulled the knot on Kíli’s bonds, easing his arms down, massaging the muscles, tapping at Kíli’s shoulders questioningly. Kíli nodded. Everything was still okay. He looked at Fíli and tapped his throat.

“Of course, I want to hear you as I fuck you,” Fíli rumbled, thrusting again.

“Mahal, Fíli,” Kíli croaked, wrapping his legs around Fíli’s waist.

Fíli growled, dragging out slowly, before slamming into Kíli’s body, muttering under his breath.

“So beautiful. My treasure,” Fíli chanted as he thrust into his brother, deep and filling, alternating between slow and fast.

Below him, Kíli writhed, arching his back, keening, not caring who heard. He dug his fingertips into Fíli’s back, nail biting into the flesh, raising angry red marks as he drug his nails across the expanse.

“Fee, Fíli, so good. Fuck me hard, make me remember who I belong to.”

He surged up to nip at his brother’s neck, making Fíli stutter in his rhythm, his breath catching in his throat. He sucked a dark mark high on Fíli’s neck, soothing the bite with his tongue.

Fíli shifted his hips, pegging Kíli’s prostate with every thrust. Kíli dropped heavily back to the mattress, throwing one arm over his face, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow as darts of pleasure shot through his veins.

“Nuh uh.”

Fíli grabbed Kíli’s wrists, pinning them to either side of his head, only letting up so Kíli could free the hair trapped under his own wrists.

Fíli was relentless, fucking Kíli hard and fast. Tears leaked from Kíli’s eyes as he begging for release in Khuzdul.

“Please, nadad, please,” Kíli’s voice cracked.

“Want to come, please.”

“Fuck, come for me. Come for me.”

 “Mahal above, did you practice getting fucked so beautifully with that elf in Rivendell?”

 “He meant nothing to me. My everything, my One, my all, my treasure.”

Kíli’s eyes rolled back, his eyes drifted shut as his body raced towards the precipice of release.

“Going to come. Let’s come together, nadad.”

Fíli’s hips stuttered, he dropped his forehead to rest on Kíli’s shoulder, panting and moaning as his release took him. Kíli grabbed a handful of hair, pulling their lips together in a sharp kiss as he came, painting white stripes across his chest. Fíli laughed as he felt something warm and wet strike his chin.

“Now I have to clean my beard again,” he laughed, euphoric in his post-orgasm high. He slipped out of his brother’s body, settling on the bed, pulling Kíli to him.

Kíli turned to lay face-to-face with his brother, kissing him soft and slow.

“Thank you, golden prince,” Kíli whispered.

“No, thank you, Kíli, you’re so good to me.”

Fíli laughed and hugged him tight, “sleep now, I know you want to.”

 

*****

 

Fíli slipped his hand into Kíli’s as they waited.

The roar of the coming armies echoed off the face of Erebor, redoubling the sound, making it terrifying.

“To the end of the world?”

“To the end of the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not sorry about that ending.


End file.
